


for the best

by EasyPeasyPanic



Series: all of my founders era fics [7]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Character Death, Drabble, Hashirama just loves Madara so much, Hashirama stops Izuna from dying but it comes at a cost, Hashirama's entire personlity is like a coping method, I wrote a sad, M/M, Uchiha Izuna Lives, nobody is THAT optimistic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24872449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EasyPeasyPanic/pseuds/EasyPeasyPanic
Summary: Hashirama's hand was still against the Uchiha, outstretched to shove him just a few inches away, out of the way of danger."What the fuck?" Izuna says, loud and unsure. The older Senju agrees with the sentiment.
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara
Series: all of my founders era fics [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1718458
Comments: 16
Kudos: 256
Collections: fffffffff





	for the best

**Author's Note:**

> ahhhh i wrote a sad

* * *

_ Always hope for the best.  _

Somebody had told him that. Somebody that was probably dead now, although he's not entirely sure about that because he can't remember who told him that, but Hashirama has always kept it close to his heart since that day.  _ Always hope for the best _ . There's more to that, something along the lines of being prepared for the worse things to come, because the best doesn't always happen. 

Hashirama is foolish, he knows. He clings to the little hopes, the childish blindness of  _ maybe  _ everything would turn out well, that maybe it could come together, that  _ maybe the world decides to just stop.  _ He hopes the world would turn entirely upside down, that everything could reset and the slate could be wiped clean, and the blood cleaned off blades that would be put to rest entirely. 

He's foolish, but he isn't an idiot. Hashirama is aware of the way he forces himself to be hopelessly naïve, almost the point where it seems he was clinging to nothing. But he has a good reason-- out of everything that he's lost and given and had stolen from him, this remained-- which was the hollowed out  _ love  _ that nestled deep in his chest. 

Something silly. Something foolish.  _ Always hope for the best _ . But he wants to have the same static beneath his skin again, the same bloom of emotion inside his chest that he felt as a teenager that sat across from a dark-eyed boy on the banks of that river. Hashirama is selfish, maybe, because he's holding onto half-thought out dreams and a love that never had a chance and old feelings that he couldn't let go of. Love was an ugly and happy thing. He wanted those little _ love  _ back-- the jokes that only two smiling boys knew, the fond arguments and the witty retorts that made him snort too loudly, the first kisses that were too fast and too strange and left his giddy all night. He wanted all of those back, every moment of it. 

_ Always hope for the best _ . 

His brother didn't have a childhood love. (And to Hashirama's shame, his brother didn't even have much of a childhood either.) He was a different, hasher breed of man that wasn't dictated by the need for something more. Tobirama wasn't somebody that needed coddled, that needed hope to thrive. He wasn't sinking and trying to keep his head above water like his older brother, so Hashirama understands why they bicker so consistently. If the world turned to flame and ash, Tobirama wouldn't bat an eye because he would have expected no differently than disaster and heartbreak at every turn. 

Hashirama understands why they disagree, why his brother doesn't understand the inner workings of a person outside of himself, why he doesn't know about the weakness that comes from trying to hold onto something that's gone. Tobirama is efficient. 

Hashirama hopes for the best out of him. He knows what his brother does in his private chambers, because Hashirama isn't as big of an oaf as they wish to believe him to be. When Tobirama tinkers with his weapons, when he goes over the seal matrix hastily thought of late at night and studies techniques of the past, he doesn't understand that his elder brother is just as intelligent, just as capable of  _ understanding.  _ He knows what his brother has created. 

Hashirama  _ hopes _ his brother won't use it. 

But, as with almost everything in his life, he is disappointed.  _ Hope for the best, but know you will get the worst, Hashirama. _

He sees it. The way his brother smiles, the tilt of his lips like a pleased wild animal preparing to strike for the kill. Tobirama will go for the younger Uchiha's throat like a wolf, and he will not hesitate. He will not show mercy. He won't think of barely formed dreams of a village, or first kisses that taste like nothing except skin but somehow still send chills down his spine, or jokes that made him laugh so hard he spit tea from his nose. 

Hashirama turns his gaze away from his own fight, trying to watch his brother. Hoping that he doesn't draw the kunai that will ultimately end in Uchiha Izuna's demise. He hopes and hopes and--

Madara's blade glides by his throat in a fluid motion. Hashirama's body reacts purely by instinct, the only thing that saves his life in that moment. He twists his body away, dancing away from the fight, unable to draw his attention away from his brother and Izuna. 

"Hashirama?" Madara says, low and challenging. An edge of concern, although it would never be admitted, because days by the river are over. Ceasefires won't be signed, the fighting won't be stopped, and the village won't be formed. 

_ Always hope for the best.  _

"Hmm?"

Hashirama blinks away, trying to keep himself together. Trying to piece back the layer of himself that is bright and optimistic and hopeful. He offers a smile, as wide as he can manage with a heavy heart that hurts in his chest, and he meets Madara's blade with his own. 

Fire burns in black eyes. Madara is quick and skilled. He's fast and strong, and he never tries to kill Hashirama, not really. It's the thrill of the fight that the man loves so much, and there's a smile somewhere in his dark eyes that he can't afford to give to Hashirama in any other way. He loves this man, he thinks dumbly. He has been in love with him since he was thirteen, sitting by a river that wasn't even safe enough to drink from without boiling the water because of all the bodies that had contaminated it. 

He loves their shared dreams. He loves their old jokes. Hashirama loves the idea of a village together. Of a life together again, of new jokes and new rivers and a house they can meet at for tea that was actually warm instead of brought lukewarm in a gourd, and of little brothers that get to live by their sides. He loves the way Madara throws himself into battle, the way he's always in step with Hashirama, the way that the world slows down a little when he's around him. Hashirama has never been faithful or devout to anything except blind hope, but he thinks that Madara had to have been a gift and punishment from whatever deity deemed him worthy of the Uchiha. 

_ Always hope for the best, Hashirama.  _

Hashirama lets his eyes wander back over to his brother-- whom he loves so greatly-- and knows he won't relent on his behalf. He will slaughter Izuna. He knows he's going to try today with those stupid kunai in a stupid war that nobody wants to fight anymore, and Hashirama can't find any hope in this situation right now. Tobirama will kill Izuna. It'll be a finality that he doesn't want to accept. 

He can't-- he can't--

There won't be anything left to cling to after that. Nothing left for Hashirama to grasp, even if his false hopes  _ now  _ slip through his fingers like sand again and again. It will break Madara's heart, to lose his brother. It will shatter him beyond recognition, just as it would to lose Tobira, he knows that, and there will be no  _ maybes  _ left about the peace talks. There will be no ceasefire, no village and no house and no laughter and no  _ first kiss all over again.  _ No soft touches, no hands that press against flesh in a way that doesn't destroy or bruise or hurt. 

Hashirama will have no hope left. No ideas of maybe we can be happy, maybe Madara loves me as much as I love him, maybe  _ maybe maybe maybe-- _

Hashirama will drown. He's never been without something to cling to. He's never…never been completely hopeless before. He loves Madara in a way that he knows he won't be able to handle the complete loss of him. If Izuna were to die, if he were to allow Madara to be hurt in such a cruel and intimate way, it would be hopeless to think they could ever put all the pieces of their feelings back together.

(Besides, he doesn't want to see Madara in that sort of pain. He doesn't want anyone he loves to ever have to hurt.)

Maybe that's why he moves. With a swift motion, he has a foot pressed into Madara's stomach (sorry, always so sorry) that sends him careening out of the way. Because he knows Tobirama better than he knows himself, he knows his style of fighting, his tricks, his thoughts. The steam of water against fire is a cover, the  _ slice  _ of metal cutting through the air. Hashirama moves.  _ Fast.  _

(Some forget that Hashirama is kind. He shows kindness in the way he doesn't fight to his full extent. He holds back, he never wants to hurt. He restrains the whisperings in his blood for  _ faster, better, move and grow and _ \-- well, he's kind. Soft, so he holds back. This isn't a moment he can afford to go slow.)

And his intentions were, truly, just to move Izuna out of the way. He had heard his brother's plans in discussion with their cousin, Touka, and it isn't hard to see the opportunity that his brother wouldn't be able to resist. Hashirama knew what was coming, although he didn't expect

the white hot,  _ blinding  _ pain. It's slow and radiating, as if somebody had struck him hard in the chest with their fist, but then it turns  _ pain pain pain.  _ Everything clears. Hashirama's hand was still against the Uchiha, outstretched to shove him just a few inches away, out of the way of danger. 

"What the fuck?" Izuna says, loud and unsure. The older Senju agrees with the sentiment. 

_ Always hope for the best, Hashirama.  _

Hashirama blinks dumbly. Looks down at the blade that has pierced straight through his chest, even digging deep into the layer of metal that was supposed to protect him. That wasn't what he had intended. It had all happened so quickly, hadn't it? It had--

" _ Anija… _ ?" Tobirama's voice is horrified. Shattered, maybe. Everything grows heavy. Everything twists and turns around him, and then he's on the ground. 

His head bounces against the hard ground, the feeling making a ringing noise inside his skull. Hashirama breathes  _ in and out and in and out.  _ Tobirama is crouched by his side, shouting orders, and then his cold hands are pressing against his face. Then holding something to his wound because he feels hands and pain. 

"...eyes open, Anija. Please--" 

There's not a best in this situation. Hashirama is many things, but even he can't heal this sort of wound. His body won't be able to handle stitching itself together fast enough, so he doesn't see the point of hoping. 

Hashirama opens his mouth. He wants to comfort his brother, to explain why he did what he did, to promise him it wasn't his fault. Even Hashirama didn't know it would turn out this way. But the words don't spill from his mouth, only thick blood. 

"Hashirama!" Madara calls out from somewhere, very close. He doesn't bother to turn his gaze to search for him, because Hashirama is still clinging to  _ hope _ . Whatever reaction awaits him, he doesn't want to see it. He wants to die pretending that maybe Madara still loves him, that perhaps he'll even mourn for him, that  _ maybe  _ he will be so grateful for his sacrifice that he would offer Tobirama a ceasefire. That maybe something good came out of this, anything better. Hashirama couldn't look over and see--

Well, Hashirama is foolish and naïve and hopelessly in love, and he wants to die that way. (If he looked over and didn't see anything in those dark eyes, it would break him completely. He couldn't--) 

Madara's face comes into his eyesight just as he begins to relax. To ease into what was happening, to just allow himself to rest. The Uchiha's eyes are bright red and shiny and  _ terrified.  _ He falls down beside him, and even Tobirama doesn't have a word to say with the way the Uchiha looks, and Hashirama might have smiled if everything didn't hurt so much. 

"You're alright. You're alright, you idiot." Madara rambles on, and he glances up at something that Hashirama can't see. He can't see very much, everything is fuzzy at the edges of his blackening vision. His head spins. "You fucking  _ idiot _ , I-- you're going to be alright. The bleeding is stopping, I think. Senju, where's your fucking medic?" He snaps, but it isn't much use. Hashirama was the medic on duty today, wasn't he? Wishful thinking now. 

_ Always hope for the best _ . 

"Izuna, find me some bandages-- don't argue, he saved your life. Senju, you just keep your hand pressed down. Hashirama, you  _ fucking idiot _ ." Madara repeats, and he might be doing something, but Hashirama can't feel it anymore. He can't feel anything except the cold and the heaviness of his body. "You're going to be okay. You're going to be okay."

Hashirama offers a weak, blood-stained smile. Right, of course he was. He would be fine, right? Maybe another medic would get here, or his healing factor would take over, and somehow he would get to live. Maybe he would be fine. 

_ Always hope for the-- _

* * *

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i'm caught between wanting to write some funny team tobirama or writing about senju kawarama because you know what, there's not enough content with either


End file.
